


Marrow

by haisai_andagii



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel
Genre: M/M, gamquick, quickbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rarely Done AUs Prompt: “You’re my friend/doctor and you’re the one who tells me I’m terminal.” Remy is the doctor.  Pietro is the patient.  The diagnosis is Cancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGreatCatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/gifts).



**Rarely Done AUs Prompt:** “ _You’re my friend/doctor and you’re the one who tells me I'm terminal._ ”

Remy is the doctor.  Pietro is the patient.  The diagnosis is Cancer.

Pietro hated hospitals.  Too clean.  Too cold.  Too bright.  He shivered so strongly, that he actually jumped a little in his seat.  Pietro pulled at the back of his gown, his fingers fumbling with the ties as he tried to draw it close.

"Let me do that for you, Pie," his sister said softly.  Her heard the rustle of her coat as Wanda crossed the room from where she stood.

"Is this necessary?" he asked.  She did not answer.  Wanda helped him turn on the examination table.  She threaded the ties between deft fingers, quickly working her away up. 

"You can barely walk..." she said, just before the final tie. Her hands stilled.  He could feel her clutching at the gown on his back.  She breath shuddered and Wanda swallowed thickly before attempting again.  Her hands trembled faintly as she traced the red blotches on the back of his neck.

"It's nothing new," he muttered, brushing her hand away.  It was a small motion, but the pain raced through his bones like fire.  He kept his face passive despite the beads of sweat on his brow.

"It s-should be nothing but it's not," she replied, her voice warbling.  "Lorna came home and found you at the bottom of the stairs, Pie."

"I was just tired and I slipped-"

" _Pietro!_ " Wanda cried.  He could not look at her.  He did not want to, but Pietro found his eyes moving of their own accord.  Her cheeks streaked with tears, the pain shining in her green eyes. 

There was a knock at the door.   It was doctor - Remy LeBeau - that greeted them in the ER when Pietro's ambulance pulled up. 

He was a scruffy thing.  The doctor had a five o'clock shadow that put all others to shame.  His shirt as untucked with half its buttons undone; there was a violent, red-ink stain on his breast pocket; tail of his lab coat were tattered.  His hair was a great mop of a auburn hair that hung in his hazel eyes. 

But in spite of all, he was a capable, efficient, and highly intelligent doctor.

"Sorry to interrupt but we got results..." he started slowly. 

"Are t-they..." Wanda sounded hopeful, scrubbing at her face with a sleeve.  But Pietro knew better.  He locked eyes with LeBeau, who shook his head.

"Non, cher," the  doctor said sorrowfully.  "Dey not good..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It Stage III but we still gotta chance, ladies," Remy explained. "We can find ah match usin' human leukocyte antigen or HLA.  It a kind of tissue.  We do a test. And you a match and we all good ta go.  But the mo' donors-"

"-the more likely the match," Lorna finished, her verdant hair swinging as she turned toward her sister.  "Where the fuck is our so-called dad?" She question came out a hiss.  Wanda winced.

"H-he's in Malaysia. I left a message at his hotel b-but-"

"His son has Leukemia and he's on the other side of the goddamn planet?!" the younger woman spat.  Lorna turned to Remy.  "Give us a minute?"  He nodded, rose and left the room.

No sooner had Remy closed the door, the green haired girl went off.  He sucked his teeth, slinking off and away from the unending string of profanities echoing through the hall.   He padded toward Pietro's room.  He slipped inside and slid the door closed behind him.

Pietro gave him a curious look.

"How ya doin'?" Remy asked, as he crossed the room and grabbed the chart at the foot of the bed.

"I feel like shit," Pietro answered honestly. "And I'm bored." He weakly pushed some dog-eared magazines onto the floor.  With a groan, he eased his pallid, ailing body back onto the pillows.

"Cancer'll do dat," the doctor replied.  He scratched at his chin as he flipped through the chart.  A frown flitted across his face before replacing it with a smile. 

"I can hear Lorna..." Pietro muttered.

"Yeah, she got a lot ta say..." Remy returned, replacing the chart and sinking into the chair by Pietro's bed.  "She care about you."

"And from her shouting, I'm sure it's about our father..."

"Mind me askin' why he ain't come? I mean, your his kid and all..."

"Our father is a high-scale restauranteur by the name of Erik Magnus Eisenhardt.  He spends his year flying all around the globe scouting for new locations and new culinary talents." Pietro dissolved into a fit of coughs.  Remy poured some water from the pitcher sitting on his night stand.  Carefully, he tilted the cup to the man's mouth.  Pietro drank greedily, water dripping down his pointed chin.

"Thank you."

"Non," Remy said easily.  He plucked his handkerchief from his coat pocket.  Gently, he pressed it against Pietro's mouth, pulling away when he was done.  "You were sayin'?"

"I work for him," Pietro continued.  "I managed everything in North America.  I spent more time racing all over the continent at his whim." He laughed.  It was bitter and filled Remy's stomach with ice.  "All that just to please him, only to become him."

"How you mean?"

"Failing our family," Pietro returned, with a slight shrug.  "I know what's it's like to be outside looking in.  I-I didn't make enough time to be a husband, to be a father. Too busy with work." He twisted at his blanket between too slender fingers.  

Remy said nothing.  He adjusted Pietro's blankets, pulling them up to his waist before moving to sit in the chair beside him.

"Now, I am out of time."

"You got time," Remy said quietly.  "Maybe not a whole lot, but time nonetheless.  You say da word and Remy'll call whoever needs callin'."

"My daughter but... I don't want her to see me like..." Pietro made an abortive gesture.  His hands curl and unfurling as if they would pull the words he wanted from the air.

"But her seeing you in a casket is better, if dis marrow transplant don't work out?" 

Pietro's breath hitched.

"You have t-terrible bedside m-manner..." he stammered, his chest trembling.  Remy leaned forward.  He wiped away at the tears gathering in Pietro's azure eyes.  The pads of his fingers were rough but warm.

"Désolé," Remy replied softly.  "It's jus' dat life is shorter den a gnat's dick.  Remy'll talk ta yo' sisters and we see about getting your baby girl out here tout de suite."

Pietro sank further into his pillows as he fixed his glassy-eyed gaze on the ceiling.

"Thank you..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crystal stood in the doorway, her arms full of snacks and extra blankets.  She deposited her treasures on the foot of Pietro's bed.  She watched her daughter -Luna- slumbering in her ex-husband's arms; her tow head was tucked beneath his chin.

"Erik landed in Laguardia an hour ago and Wanda's racing up to the 278 with him as we speak," she heard voice a say from the door.  It was Lorna.  Crystal passed her a bag of spicy-looking chips and an apple juice as she sank into a chair. 

"We all tested negative," Lorna replied, mournfully shoving chips into her frowning mouth.  "Wanda, Magda, and me.  We're all no good.  Luna is too young.  Dad's our last chance."

"He's a match," Crystal said, her tone tired but hopeful.  "Pietro will be ok..." 

"We gotta talk if this-"

"Lorna, no."

"He made arrangements to create a trust for Luna if-"

"I said no!"

Lorna went quiet.  Crystal slid blanket over Luna and her ex-husband.  They dosed peacefully; their soft snores underscoring the rhythmic beeps from Pietro's monitor.

"I'm sorry, Crys," Lorna said softly, the bag of chips crinkling in her hand.

"You should be," she chided.  "Thinking such a thing.  Pietro is too stubborn to die.  He wouldn't dare."  She sat next to her former sister-in-law, grabbing some pretzels for herself.  They sat, side-by-side, chewing quietly and waited for Erik to come.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothingness. 

Pietro floated in the nothingness, his body like a raft on a placid sea. 

He remembered was Luna, her tiny arms wrapping themselves around his neck. 

He remembered Crystal's florid scent as she kissed him goodnight. 

He remembered Lorna dripped water into his mouth. 

He remembered Wanda's footfalls as she paced his room. 

He remember his mother's warmth as she ran her hands along his gaunt cheeks. 

Pietro tried to tether himself to each sensation; to free himself from the gray.

But he was so tired.  Every breath, every heartbeat took so much out of him.  He could feel it.  He was slowly slipping away. 

"Don't give up, cher." Pietro heard Remy whisper into his ear.  "Now, ain't da time."  He felt those calloused fingers stroke his wrist. 

Pietro lips fluttered.  His reply barely a whisper:

"I... won't."

 


End file.
